My Heart Will Never Ever Change
by flowerrrs25
Summary: Her head may not be whole, but her heart still is. Ally loses her words but Austin will never lose her. Auslly. One-shot.


Disclaimer: Austin and Ally does not belong to me.

A/N: This is way different from anything I've ever written and it was really challenging but I hope you like it. Please review, I really want to know what you guys think.

This story is for my good friend Nada.

* * *

The first time it happens, he doesn't think anything of it. Neither does she.

They're twenty-one, and on his tour bus eating dinner after his show, and she forgets the word _ketchup_.

"Hey Austin, can you pass me a packet of—" she says, pausing, a confused expression on her face.

He gives her a strange look. "Um…ketchup?" he asks, handing it to her, and she nods, relieved.

"Ketchup," she repeats, and her mouth forms the word the same as it always has. "Ketchup!" she says. "That was weird, I just completely blanked."

He raises an eyebrow. "I think you've been staying up too late."

She scoffs. "But when am I supposed to do my homework, Austin? And write you your next single? I couldn't just skip college—like _some_ people," she says pointedly.

"Couldn't or wouldn't?" he asks teasingly, and then his expression grows concerned. "Seriously though, Ally, you look kinda tired. Come on, I'll go to bed too."

"But I have an online final tomorrow and three chapters of a book to read and—"

"And you're Ally, and I'd bet anything that you know it all already."

She opens her mouth to protest but he just raises his eyebrows. She frowns. "So maybe I do know it, but it never hurts to review and—"

He stands up and takes her wrist and she sputters after him as he drags her to their bunks. "Please?" he asks when he turns to her, his eyes softening.

She sighs. "Fine."

He lets her go.

* * *

The second time, they're back home in Miami, and she forgets where her songbook is.

She comes running downstairs in a panic where he's absentmindedly strumming a guitar. The store's closed and he's waiting for her to change before their date.

_Date_.

Because oh yeah, they're together now. He had kissed her on the last night of tour because she was _so_ pretty, smiling at him after he got off stage after his last show of his first international tour (because Canada counts), and he just couldn't wait anymore. Because he had suddenly realized, in front of three thousand two hundred and thirty nine screaming fans, that it has always been Ally and that it will always be Ally.

And when he had kissed her for the second time in his life, it wasn't the most romantic moment, especially because the bus had gone over a pothole right as he leaned in to press his lips to hers.

But the resulting bump on the head didn't stop her from cupping his cheeks and bringing his face down to hers. "I was hoping you'd do that," she had said when they parted, looking up at him through her eyelashes. And he had understood, at that moment, that there would be nothing in his entire life more _right_ than her.

But the status of their relationship doesn't really pertain to the issue at hand.

"Austin!" she says anxiously. "Where's my book? Did you touch my book? It had all the verses to your new song in it and—"

He quickly puts the guitar down and stands up. "Calm down, Ally, I didn't do anything with it. Did you look where you usually put it?"

Because he saw her writing in her songbook two hours ago, saw her put it on top of the piano in the practice room like always.

"Where…I usually put it?" she asks, and suddenly, she looks very tired and very confused.

He frowns. "On top of the piano, Ally, you always keep it there."

She blinks.

He doesn't notice her strange expression because he's halfway up the stairs already. "Come on, let's go look," he calls, and she shakes her head at the sound of his voice.

"Coming," she answers, and he waits for her at the top of the stairs.

Sure enough, it's in the exact same place as where she always keeps it, on top of the piano, and she blushes in embarrassment. "I have no idea what happened; I just totally forgot where I put it."

He grins at her. "And I thought I was supposed to be the blond one."

She laughs.

* * *

The third time something happens, he begins to worry. It's only a few weeks after the songbook incident and she forgets the word _paper_.

As in:

"Hey Austin, can you hand me a blank piece of staff—"

She furrows her brow and frowns.

He looks at her oddly. "Are you sure you've been getting enough sleep? _Paper_?"

She nods and laughs a little.

"Pa-per," she repeats slowly, and again, the word sounds as familiar as it always has. She shrugs. "I don't know, we've been up late these past few nights. Writing and…um…" she trails off, blushing, because _those_ words haven't quite made it into Ally Dawson's extensive vocabulary.

"Making out?" he asks, grinning, because those words have always been in Austin Moon's not-so-extensive vocabulary.

"That," she says, her cheeks still flushed, and she stands up from the piano bench. "Do you…do you wanna maybe stay over tonight?" she asks.

They're at home, in Miami, but they both have their own places now. And _staying over_ doesn't mean sex, but it means a lot of stuff that's close to it, and he quickly stands up from his chair and sets his guitar down.

"What do you think?" he asks, and walks over to stand in front of her. She looks up at him and wraps her arms around his neck and he pulls her close. He kisses her then, because he's wanted to all night and he can because he's her _boyfriend_ and that's one word he'll never get sick of. He kisses her softly, slowly, and when they part she presses her cheek to his chest and he rests his chin on her head.

"I love you," she says suddenly, and it's the first time and his heart starts beating really quickly and he can't say it back fast enough. Because he always has, _always_, and he always will.

"I love you, Ally," he says, and holds her just a little bit tighter.

And then she completely forgets where her car keys are. But as with the songbook, they're in her purse, where she always keeps them.

"I have no idea where they are," she says, her voice just very slightly hysterical. "Where are they?"

"It's okay, Ally, we'll find them," he says reassuringly. He assumes she's already checked her bag so he doesn't bother asking. "I'll look up here and you go look in the store, okay?"

She nods and rushes out the door. He can faintly hear her scrambling around downstairs as he checks every corner of the practice room. She comes back upstairs ten minutes later. "I can't find them," she says, her voice frustrated. "Where are they?"

He gets this feeling when he sees the expression on her face. A feeling that he can't describe. Maybe it's more like instinct. But suddenly he _knows_ that she hadn't checked her purse and that she maybe hadn't even thought to look there.

He turns around to grab it from the hook behind him and hands it to her. "Are they in here?" he asks quietly.

She reaches out to take it from him and sure enough, the keys are in the middle compartment, like they always are. Her face falls. "How did I—"

"Let's go home," he says softly, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. "I think you need to take a break."

She nods slowly, but lets him lead her out to the parking lot. "Want me to drive?" he asks, and she nods again and hands him her keys.

The drive to her apartment is silent but his mind is racing. There's this feeling in the back of his mind that something's wrong, that something is really _wrong_, but he pushes it away because he can't even begin to imagine—

He glances over at her but she's staring out the window unblinkingly and there's an expression on her face that he's never seen before. She doesn't look like…Ally for a second but then she turns to him and gives him a small smile and she's back to normal.

He smiles back at her. "So what do you want to do this weekend?" he asks. "We're ahead of schedule for the next album, we should take a break."

She gets an eager expression on her face. "There's this new exhibit at—"

"No," he says flatly. "No museums."

She pouts. "Then why'd you ask?"

He groans. "Because I thought you'd be tired of museums after going to one _every_ weekend for the past _month_."

"Please," she says, scoffing. "It's like you don't even know me."

* * *

He makes her an appointment to see a doctor after the fourth time.

Because she forgets the word _music_.

* * *

The diagnosis isn't set in stone, the doctors had said.

Brain disorders are never that clear cut.

But it was extremely rare in people Ally's age, they had said.

Then again, he's Austin Moon, and everything about him is pretty _rare_, isn't it?

* * *

Ally takes it surprisingly well. She researches and researches for days and comes to the conclusion that all things considered, it's not _that_ bad.

"All the research and case studies say my symptoms won't start getting really problematic for a few years, maybe longer," she says. "I'll still be able to write your songs and watch your career grow for a decade and—"

"Do you think I give a shit about any of that?" he yells, because he is _not_ taking it well. "Do you really think I give a _shit _about whether or not you'll be able to write my fucking _songs_ for me? You think I give a shit about any of that when you're telling me you have _ten_ fucking years?"

She raises her eyebrows in surprise. "Austin, I—"

He collapses in a chair and buries his face in his hands. He sits there, trying to breathe, trying to fight the instinct to break down, even though that's all he's wanted to do for days now, and then he feels her hands on his.

He allows her to take his hands and she pulls them away from his face. She pushes him back a bit and then climbs into his lap and he immediately wraps his arms around her waist as she slowly circles hers around his neck. He buries his face in her hair and her embrace around him tightens and she's whispering, "it's okay, Austin, it's okay," and he just _can't _anymore.

He cries into her neck like he's five years old and she rubs his back softly, her other hand reaching into the hair at the nape of his neck.

"You're going to forget me," he chokes out. "You won't remember my name, Ally, and we're Austin and Ally and—"

"I won't forget," she promises, even though she can't, not really. "I won't."

* * *

She breaks down six weeks later and he rocks her back and forth in his lap on her kitchen floor and whispers into her hair and lets her tears soak his shirt.

Because she forgets where she put a jar of pickles.

* * *

A year later, she's forgetting at least three words a day and there's a note in her phone that tells her where she keeps her everyday things in case she can't find them.

They'd gone on another tour even though he hadn't wanted to. He'd wanted to quit, he'd wanted to just _stop_ trying to do what he'd worked for his entire life because of…everything, but there was no way she would ever allow him to do that.

So they had gone, and it had been okay. Trish and Dez came too, because that was the only way he agreed to go, and she was never left alone for longer than a few minutes at a time.

If he wasn't performing or rehearsing or interviewing, he was by her side. And when he couldn't be, Trish and Dez were. He never wanted her to be alone because a million wild scenarios ran through his brain every day, of her forgetting something that could mean the difference between her life and death. But he had forgotten to consider that she might actually _want_ to be alone sometimes. That had started to wear on her halfway through the tour and she had _exploded_ one day, out of nowhere.

"I can take care of myself!" she yells. "I don't need you guys to _babysit_ me! So what if I forget a few words? I'm not an idiot!"

"Ally, calm down," Trish says soothingly. "No one thinks you're an idiot."

She glares. "Then why did you guys follow me when I said I wanted to take a walk? I can't do _anything_ without one of you breathing down my neck!"

"We're just looking out for you," Dez tries. "I mean, what if you forget something really important and you—"

She throws her arms up exasperatedly and he cuts himself off. "Like what? Does it really matter if I forget the words _toothpaste_, or _rug_, or _daisy_, when I'm two blocks away from the fucking bus? Or if I forget where I put my makeup bag? I can't write without one of you asking me if I'm okay. I can't read without one of you asking if I'm okay. I can't _breathe_ without one of you asking if I'm okay and I'm really fucking tired of it! I'm not a _vegetable_. I'm not _disabled_. I'm fully functional minus a few shitty words so leave me the hell alone!"

The outburst is so unlike her that she even looks surprised when she finishes speaking. But then she huffs in frustration before spinning around and leaving the bus.

He closes his eyes and breathes through his nose for a second and then he runs after her. "Austin, are you sure that's a good—"

He ignores Trish because the only thing on his mind is Ally and when he steps off the bus he sees that she hasn't gone far. She's not running, actually, but instead she's sitting on a curb less than a block away and he slows down as he approaches her.

She doesn't acknowledge him even as he joins her and they sit in silence for a while.

"Does the concept of _space_ not mean anything to you?" she asks suddenly. "Like even right now, did it even cross your mind that I might want to be alone for a while?"

He doesn't say anything for a minute. Because she's right, he would have never thought of leaving her alone.

"But what if_ I_ don't want to be alone?" he asks softly.

He sees surprise flash across her face before irritation takes its place again. "I don't know if I can do this anymore."

He swallows and his heart is in his throat and he can barely get the words out when he speaks. "Do what anymore?"

She stares at the ground. "Be here," she whispers. "I…I think I'm going to go home."

He panics. "Ally, please, don't—"

She looks up at him then and he falls silent. "I'm not breaking up with you. I just need a _break_. I love you, I will always love you, but I just need some time to be with myself before—" she cuts herself off and squeezes her eyes shut and he thinks that she's maybe trying not to cry. But her eyes are dry when she opens them. "—before I'm not myself anymore."

He closes his eyes. Because he understands, even though he doesn't want to understand.

"I know being with me is hard," she whispers. "And that it'll only get harder."

He stares at her.

"And I wouldn't…I wouldn't blame you if—" she cuts herself off, takes a deep breath. "—if you decide that it's _too_ hard, Austin, because you're going to get hurt but I'm too selfish to break up with you myself and I—"

He cuts her off by pressing his lips to hers and she circles her arms around him almost instantaneously. He wraps his arms around her waist and lifts her onto his lap and he holds her so tightly he briefly wonders if she'll have trouble breathing but he can't let her go.

"Don't even _think_ that ever again," he whispers, leaning his forehead against hers. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise. No matter what. And I'm sorry, Ally, I really am."

She finally lets herself cry then and he rubs her back gently, letting her let it out. "I'm sorry I yelled at you," she hiccups out. "I don't even yell."

He laughs a little and he knows that for now, for _now_, they'll be okay. "I think maybe you do."

* * *

She greets him at his last show of the tour with fifty-three new songs. He reads them all slowly, sitting at the table on the bus, and she watches him anxiously.

"Every single one is perfect," he says. "But what am I supposed to do with fifty-three songs?"

She hesitates. "There's enough for four or five albums, I guess. I just…wanted to get them all out for you, you know? Before…before I don't have the words."

He takes a breath. "I don't need them."

She frowns. "What do you mean?"

"There won't be more albums."

She stands up. "What do you mean there won't be more albums?"

"I'm quitting," he says. "I don't want to do this anymore."

"_What_? What are you say—"

"This last month was absolutely miserable," he interrupts. "I hate this. This whole thing has never been about me. It's been about me and you. I don't want…I _can't_ do it without you."

"But this is your—" she stops and her face twists in confusion, something he hasn't actually _seen_ in a month, and it hits him hard.

"Dream," he whispers.

* * *

He doesn't announce that it's his last show. She won't let him, because she won't let it be his last show, she says.

But he knows that really, it is.

He asks her to perform with him, because in the grand scheme of things, stage fright doesn't seem like it should be that big of an issue anymore.

But she's Ally, and apparently to her, the stage is more frightening than a slowly progressing brain disorder that will someday take away her ability to speak, let alone sing, so of course she immediately says no.

He rolls his eyes. "You're singing with me," he says.

"No."

"Yes."

"I can't."

"You will."

She shakes her head. "Austin, I—"

"You need to do this," he says quietly.

She pauses, takes a breath. "I know."

She performs every single one of his songs with him, slowed down, acoustic versions that they'd played together when it was just the two of them.

And then she ends the concert by performing three songs of her own, by herself, and he's left completely _star struck_ by his best friend. His jaw actually drops when she sings the last note.

He's never heard an audience that loud.

* * *

Exactly two years and four days after his very last concert, Austin asks Ally if she will marry him.

She doesn't forget the word _yes_.

* * *

Most days are good days. Like today.

He'd made enough money that they'd be set for years but they were both working because neither of them, really, would be content sitting at home all day doing nothing. So he had moved to the production side part-time, joining a small record label for up-and-coming artists. And she's still a songwriter, although it's getting more and more difficult for her lately. A song that probably would have taken her two days to write a few years ago now takes at least eight, but they still sell for exorbitant amounts of money and writing still makes her happy and that's all that really matters.

When he gets home he finds her outside in the backyard, sitting cross-legged on a blanket in the grass, her songbook beside her. He walks quietly over to her and sits down next to her and she immediately leans into him.

"Hey Ally," he says. "What are you doing?"

"Thinking," she says, then frowns. "Or…trying to think, I guess."

It doesn't faze him anymore, so he just nods and pulls her closer. "We signed a duo today, a guy and a girl just a little younger than us."

"Were they good?"

"They were great. They…they reminded me of you and me," he says hesitantly.

"Or what we could've been?" she asks, not bitterly, and there's wistful smile on her face.

He smiles back and presses his lips to the side of her head. "Yeah."

They fall into a comfortable silence as he lightly strokes her shoulder with his palm and he closes his eyes for a minute, letting her warmth seep into him. She's humming something unfamiliar to him so he figures it's one of her new songs and he lets the quiet melody wash over him.

She clears her throat after a few minutes.

"I couldn't figure out how to set the DVR today. Can you help me?" she asks.

Again, he's used to it.

"Of course. What were you trying to record?"

"It's a—" she stops, frowns. "A—"

"Show?" he offers quietly, and she shakes her head. He's usually pretty good at this, so he tries again. "Movie?"

She nods. "Right, a movie. It's a movie about—" she stops talking. "It's a movie about—about—about—about—"

"A movie about what?" he prompts. She grins. "A movie about a singer, a girl who can't write songs and a guy who writes them for her."

"Sounds familiar," he says dryly, and she laughs. "Isn't it a little early for a movie inspired by my life?"

"You think quite highly of yourself, don't you?" she asks teasingly, raising an eyebrow. "What makes you think Austin Moon's life story is worth telling?"

"Please, Ally," he scoffs. "It started with corn dogs and a stolen song and you destroying a television set and a viral video." He nods. "Yup. Pure entertainment right there."

She hesitates. "So your life story starts with the day you met me?"

He shrugs. "Of course it does."

* * *

Other days are not so good days. Like today.

A year later, she suddenly forgets that it's a year later.

That is, she starts talking about something that happened a year ago as if it had happened yesterday.

"That concert last night was amazing," she says, and he freezes.

"What concert?" he asks slowly. "What was the band?"

She looks at him strangely. "Maroon 5," she says slowly. "How could you not remember?"

His heart starts pounding faster and faster as he tries to remember what the doctors told him to do if this happened.

_Play along_.

He closes his eyes for a second, takes a breath, and then grins at her. "Yeah, that concert was pretty kickass. And I can't believe they covered one of my songs, that was incredible."

"I wish we could've—" she stops suddenly, and blinks at him.

"Did I just say the concert was yesterday?" she asks, her voice frantic.

He nods. "Yeah."

She stands up from where she had been sitting across the room and sits down next to him on the couch. "It's getting worse," she whispers. "Isn't it?"

"I think so," he says calmly, even though he feels like he's about to collapse. "We should go to the doctor."

"For what?" she asks bitterly. "They can't do anything, you can't do anything, and I can't do anything. My brain is turning to shit."

Mood swings are also a symptom.

"Your brain isn't shit," he says. "Ally—"

"Why are you even here?" she says angrily, her voice rising. "Why do you love me? I'm _nothing_ like I once was, I'm not even Ally anymore, why are you _here_? I'm nothing but a fucking burden on your life. You quit everything you ever loved for me, and for what? I'm a shell of who I was, I can't remember how to use the—the—the—"

She buries her head in her hands and lets out a muffled scream. "I can't even fucking remember what I don't remember," she yells. "_Why are you here_?"

He stares at her.

She lowers her hands and looks up at him.

"Why are you here, Austin?" she whispers, and her face crumples as she lets out a sob. "Why are you here?" she repeats over and over again through her tears and he doesn't know what to say. So instead he wraps his arms around her tightly and she buries her face in his neck. "Why are you here?" she says again, and he doesn't answer. He rubs her back slowly and whispers "it's okay, it's okay, Ally," but it's not helping.

She pulls back all of a sudden and stares at him, her eyes full of angry tears. "You should _leave_," she says. "You should leave because I'm ruining your entire life, do you see that, Austin? I'm the reason you're not—not—not—" her expression goes blank again and he lets out a breath. She recovers quickly. "You're not doing what you _love_."

She pounds her fist against his chest. "_Leave_," she yells.

Her other fist. "Why won't you _leave_?"

She hits him, over and over again, yelling, tears streaming down her face, and he lets her, he lets her, because he knows she needs to. Finally she stops, and leans forward in exhaustion and he immediately wraps his arms tightly around her. "Shhh, you're okay," he whispers. "You're okay, Ally. I'm not going anywhere."

"Why not?" she chokes out. "Why not?"

"Because I love you. And you're not a shell. You're Ally, you'll always be Ally, even if you don't remember some stuff. And we're partners. Always. Do you remember that?" He pauses, presses his lips to her forehead.

He feels her nod. "I remember," she whispers. "Always."

He closes his eyes. "You didn't ruin my life. You are my life."

She starts crying again and he tries, he tries so hard to say strong but he can't, he can't. There are silent tears streaming down his face and he doesn't want her to see but she tilts her head back and stares at him. "Austin," she whispers, tracing her fingertips over his wet cheeks. "Austin, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Austin, so so sorry."

"I love you," he whispers shakily. "I love you so so so much, Ally, please don't ever forget that, please." He buries his face in her neck and lets himself break down because he can handle a lot but he can't handle this, he can't handle her blaming herself for the way his life has turned out. Because it's killing him that it's killing her and he needs her to know that no matter what, he's never looked back or regretted anything about being with her or wished for _anyone_ but her.

"There's nothing you could do to get me to leave," he says, trying to calm his voice. "We're Austin and Ally, okay? That's it. There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

His vision is blurry and his eyes sting and his stomach is in knots but it all disappears when she presses her lips softly to his. He kisses her back almost desperately, trying to make her see that he loves her for everything she is and is not, for everything she has ever been, for all the same reasons he did when he first fell in love with her.

And for who she will become.

* * *

She's withdrawn and shy and moody with everyone, even Trish and Dez and her parents. Not all the time, but it's starting to be more often than not that she refuses to go anywhere or see anyone.

Except with him. With him, she's mostly the same old Ally and he doesn't know why that is but he's not going to question it.

She forgets more than words now. She can't remember the name of their high school, the address of the house she grew up in, and Austin's mom's name.

New places confuse her. Old places confuse her. Things and places that used to be familiar are new and challenging and he never knows when she'll remember something or when it'll be like it never existed.

Like today.

They're at Sonic Boom because he needs new guitar strings and she goes and talks to her dad while he chooses the correct ones. She's in a good mood today and her dad hugs her for a long moment and he watches as she squeezes back just as tightly. Mr. Dawson catches his eye over Ally's head, nodding at him gratefully. He smiles back and pretends to look around the store for a while longer so they can catch up.

She's talking animatedly, which is rare for her now, and he observes her out of the corner of his eye as she gestures wildly and grins as she tells her dad something and then they both burst into laughter. Austin watches her with trepidation, knowing that she could slip into blankness at any moment.

But she doesn't, and she grins at her dad one more time before she turns around and walks towards him.

"Did you find them?" she asks.

"Yup," he says, throwing an arm around her. "Let me go pay your dad."

"Don't be silly, Austin," Mr. Dawson calls. "Take them."

His eyes widen in disbelief that Ally's dad, Mr. Dawson, _Chester the Cheap Gorilla_, for crying out loud, is letting him have something for _free_, and he tries to hide his surprise.

"Uh, thanks," he says, scratching the back of his neck.

He turns to look at Ally. "Wanna go upstairs for a minute?"

She shrugs. "Okay."

He doesn't think much of her short answer but once they get upstairs he realizes that he should have known something was wrong.

"What is this room?" she asks, her eyes curious. "Why is this up here?"

His stomach plummets to the floor. "This is our old practice room, Ally," he says, his voice strained. "You don't remember it?"

"Practice room?" she asks, her face twisted in confusion.

"We wrote songs in here and hung out in here and—"

Her lower lip is trembling. "I don't remember this room," she says, and her voice is a little panicked.

He sighs. "It's okay, Ally," he says, wrapping her up in his arms. "It's just a room."

She buries her head in his chest and he strokes her hair gently as he looks around the room where he fell in love with the girl in his arms and this one hurts, it really, really hurts, but he won't ever let her know that.

But it is just a room, after all, and it's not important where she fell in love with him, but that she still does.

* * *

It's eight months later when she forgets Trish's name.

He watches as Ally's best friend in the world tries not to react when her greeting is met by a confused expression but he can see that Trish's face is about to crumple in disappointment.

"Trish, hey," he calls, and Ally's face lights up in recognition. Sometimes she just needs a reminder.

"Trish!" she says cheerily, and she grins.

"Hi, Ally, hi Austin," she says back, but Austin can tell that she hasn't recovered quite yet. He watches carefully, not wanting to intervene unless he has to, but Trish shakes it off quickly enough and they start talking normally.

Well, as normally as Ally can hold a conversation these days. He slips away quietly so they can talk without him hovering.

He's sitting on their bed, watching a basketball game, when he suddenly hears yelling coming from the living room. He scrambles to his feet and runs out the door to find Ally yelling at Trish, who is staring up at her with a shocked expression on her face.

"Hey," he interrupts, and Ally spins around to face him, her eyebrows knotted in anger. "What's going on?"

"She—" Ally says, pointing to Trish, "said that—that—that—" she stops, and lets out a frustrated groan. "She said that I wrote you a song for another girl!"

He looks at Trish in confusion.

"I was talking about the time we worked at the Melody Diner," she says quietly. "And that song you sang when you embarrassed yourself in front of Cassidy."

He nods.

"Hey, Ally?" he says calmly. "Can I talk to Trish for a second?"

She looks at him suspiciously but nods and walks out of the room.

He sits down heavily next to Trish. "She gets jealous really easily now," he explains. "Personality thing. I should have told you but I didn't think my past love interests would come up in your conversation."

"But she doesn't remember any of that?"

He shakes his head. "A lot of our high school memories are gone. She remembers a few things, sometimes really random things, but…let's just say we don't really reminisce anymore."

She doesn't say anything for a long moment. "How are you holding up?"

He sighs and lets himself lean back on the couch. "I'm okay, Trish," he says tiredly. "I'm sorry you came on a bad day."

"How many bad days are there compared to good days?" she asks softly.

He rubs his face with his hands. "It's kind of fifty-fifty now. Maybe a little more bad than good. She…" he trails off, hesitating. "She can't really play the piano anymore. And that was her outlet and I don't really know what's gonna happen."

She watches him for a minute and then hugs him and he's startled for a minute before he hugs her back. "Thanks, Trish," he says quietly. "Thanks for sticking around."

She laughs a little as they separate. "Where am I gonna go? And hey, Dez would have come too but he's filming."

"Yeah, I know," he says, grinning. "He called me yesterday. I can't believe he's in China for three weeks."

She rolls her eyes. "He'd better bring me back something expensive," she says warningly and he laughs.

"I'm pretty sure he knows the drill by now."

She grins and stands up. "Should I say bye to Ally, or—" she trails off questioningly.

"Nah," he says, shaking his head. "It's probably better if she sees you later."

Her face falls a little and he smiles at her. "Hey, it'll be okay. She doesn't hold grudges. Come over again soon?"

"Definitely." She hugs him again and then he slumps against the closed door as soon as she's gone, letting out a breath.

"Austin?"

He quickly stands up straight and walks into the practice room to see Ally running her fingers over the piano.

"Who's Cassidy?" she asks as he takes a seat next to her.

"A girl I tried to impress when we were in high school," he replies. "Waaaay before I realized I had feelings for you. You helped me write a song for her but I was too stupid to explain how I felt and the first version ended up having really weird, really bad lyrics."

"Like what?" she asks curiously.

"I told her she was the butter on my pancake stack," he says dryly, and she bursts into laughter.

He grins at her and then he watches as her face falls a little. "I feel really bad."

"Trish understands."

She searches his eyes to find that he's telling the truth and she nods, turning her attention back to the piano.

"Can you play—play—play—" she stutters.

"Sure," he replies quickly. "Something old or something new?"

"Old," she says softly.

He shifts a little so his hands are on the correct keys and begins to sing.

_______Every day, day, day, I fall for you a little more, more, more  
__Every night, night, night, I dream of you so beautiful, oh, oh  
Every time we laugh, I see the sparks fly  
Every time you blush, I feel those butterflies..._

She watches him intently as he finishes the song. "That was good. Who was it about?" she asks, when he's finished.

"You," he says, shrugging. "Who else?"

She's silent for a minute. "We aren't timeless, you know," she says in a strange voice. "I only have a certain amount of time left."

This is a lot more common now, too, her talking about how she doesn't have a lot of life left to live. He's still not used to it.

"I'll take whatever I can get," he whispers, trying not to let her see his face. "And…you know I'll never forget you, right?"

"Even if I forget you?" she asks, and he feels her gaze, intense and dark.

He closes his eyes.

"Even then."

* * *

Complete sentences are hard now, a year later.

They're taking a walk in the park, his hand firmly enclosed around hers, and they stop at a bench to watch the sunset.

He watches two kids playing near them, a little blonde girl and a brown haired boy, and he grins when the girl playfully shoves the boy, their laughter ringing through the air.

He turns to look at Ally. "I think they're us," he says teasingly. "She's already got him whipped."

Ally smiles but it doesn't reach her eyes and he notices.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

She shakes her head. "Nothing."

He frowns. "Come on, tell me."

She furrows her brow like she does when she's trying to form a sentence in her head and he waits patiently. "Can't have…kids," she manages. "I can't give you kids."

His eyes widen. "Ally, no, you can't do that to yourself, okay?"

Her eyes start to fill with tears and he panics. They've never once talked about this before and while it has crossed his mind, he's never really dwelled on it. Their situation is what it is and he's come to accept it for everything it is and is not.

"You'd be…a…you'd be…a—a—" she pauses and he waits. "A good dad."

"Thanks," he whispers, and she gives him a small smile.

And all of a sudden he doesn't want to avoid it any more, he wants to think about the what ifs and alternate universes and he knows it's going to hurt but he just wants to let it out.

"Girl or boy?" he asks, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close.

"Girl," she says.

He nods. "Definitely. We'd probably name her something musical and cliché, like Melody or Aria or Harmony or something."

"Aria," she whispers, a smile spreading across her face.

"Austin and Ally and Aria," he says, laughing a little. "She'd be smarter than me by the time she learned to talk, I bet. And she'd have your eyes and I'd never be able to say no and you'd get mad at me for spoiling her."

She laughs, a light, tinkling sound that he hasn't heard in a while.

His grin gets wider. "And you'd teach her piano but she'd secretly like guitar more and she'd have the most _amazing_ voice."

"Blonde," she adds.

He raises an eyebrow. "Yeah? Yeah, she'd be blonde and have wavy hair and she'd be tiny like you. And maybe by then you would've been over your stage fright and we'd take her on tour, but only in the summer."

She rolls her eyes because of _course_ he'd want to take a kid on tour with them. "Hey, it'd be fun!" he protests.

She leans into him a little more, resting her cheek on his chest. He rubs slow circles into her arm. "Love you," she says quietly. "And Aria."

His throat feels tight as he rests his chin on her head and he closes his eyes, his mind racing with images of their little family that will never be. "You know I don't blame you or resent you or anything, right?" he whispers. "I knew from the start that this is how it was going to be."

She nods against his chin. "After I'm gone?" she asks, and his eyes fly open.

"There is _nothing_ after you're gone," he says firmly. "_Nothing_. I can't—" he cuts himself off, unwilling and unable to even _imagine_ moving on from her.

"Be…happy," she insists. "After."

He wants to tell her that the time he has with her is enough to keep him going for his entire life, that he _will_ be happy even if he's not with anyone, that she has nothing to worry about.

But he can't bring himself to say any of that, even if it might eventually be true.

"How?" he whispers.

* * *

Nine months later, she refuses to speak to anyone but him.

She won't talk to Trish or Dez, even her mom and dad, and it's _hard_.

She turns her head away when anyone but Austin walks into the room and he watches people who are their best friends, their _family_, leave with tears streaming down their faces, unable to understand why Ally, why their Ally, doesn't want to see them.

Her mom takes it the hardest. "I missed so much time with her," she says, crying. "I was never there for her."

"She knows you were thinking of her, Penny," he replies, wrapping her up in his arms. "She talked about you all the time and looked up to you and she loves you, so much."

She shakes her head. "This isn't natural," she chokes out, her tears soaking his chest. "I'm not supposed to outlive my daughter."

He doesn't have an answer for that because she's the biologist, not him. So instead he holds his mother-in-law a little closer and wonders if Ally would have grown up to look like her.

* * *

She's pretty much silent now, eight months later.

But he talks. Out of the two of them, Ally was always the talker but now it's his job and he talks and talks about everything and nothing, tells her about memories she's forgotten, about places they've traveled, about the people in her life that she no longer remembers.

And he knows he's making her happy because she smiles and her eyes are clear.

Most of the time.

Some days she'll look completely lost and confused and clueless, her eyes glassy, and no matter what he tries, she won't be able to focus. Those days, he's learned to leave her alone until she snaps out of it.

Today, though, she's pretty happy and smiling and even says his name a few times.

He's telling her about the time he looked at her songbook without permission and was scared out of his mind that she had a crush on him and turned himself sweaty and orange just to make sure their friendship would be okay.

She lets out a sound that he knows is a laugh. "I was pretty stupid, you know. Why wouldn't I have wanted you to have a crush on me?" he says, smirking.

She rolls her eyes. "Best f-f-friend," she says softly.

His eyes soften. "Best friend," he repeats.

* * *

It's been ten years now. They're both thirty-one and the time remaining is all he can think about.

They had said ten years ten years ago and it seems pretty dead on because they both know she doesn't have much time left.

She just sits and stares out the window but he's pretty sure she's not really _looking_ at anything.

Her parents and his parents and Trish and Dez come over one day and he wonders if she's close to the end because her eyes clear up and she smiles and he hasn't seen that in _months_. They all leave in good spirits but he doesn't have the heart to tell them what he's really thinking.

He curls up with her that night in their bed and she holds his hand and he strokes her face and he stares at her for hours because he doesn't know if she will ever be able to stare back at him after tonight.

* * *

The only time she lights up now is when he sings to her.

So that's what he does.

* * *

"Austin," she whispers, and he bolts upright in bed.

"Ally?" he asks frantically, because she hasn't said his name in _months_.

She nods and he knows this is it.

And he's been preparing every day for ten years but he's not ready for it, not even close, and he can't do anything but hold her, his face pressed to hers, his arm tight around her waist.

He has no idea why she's able to look at him and _see_ him right now but the last thing he's going to do is question it.

"Do you know how happy you've made me?" he asks, his voice shaking so hard he can barely get the words out, but his eyes are locked on hers. "When I said we were a perfect match, I meant it, Ally, I meant it then and I mean it now and you will always be _it_ for me, okay?"

She blinks up at him, her eyes wide. "And you know what else I meant?"

His mouth is trembling so badly he can hardly breathe. "There's no way I can make it without you," he whispers, and then he presses his lips to hers and she's kissing him back even though she hasn't in a year and everything inside of him breaks.

"I love you, Austin," she says, her eyes focused on his, and her voice is clear and bright and quiet and he can't do anything but clutch her desperately.

He buries his head in her neck and mumbles, "I love you," and then her hand goes slack in his and she's gone, she's gone, Ally's gone, _his Ally is gone_.

He doesn't move for a long, long time.

* * *

Three years later, he's moved on.

Not with another girl, because there will _never_ be another girl.

But he's making music again and right now he's at his very first concert in twelve years.

He faces the audience and takes a deep breath as he grips his guitar tightly.

He smiles. "This song was written by my partner and best friend, Ally Dawson."

_fin._

* * *

please review, I would really appreciate it!


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